


in my next life by the shore

by BooyahFordhamYacht



Series: and did you love me like the way you wrote(shyan oneshots) [4]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Immortal Ryan Bergara, Like four swear words, M/M, Mentions of Death, Merlin AU, Not Real Character Death, Pining Shane Madej, Reincarnation, Ryan as Merlin, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sara as Gwen, Shane as Arthur, Swear Words, Vague PTSD symptoms, Very Vague Past Shane/Sara, medieval fic, mentions of illness, mentions of the plague, references to trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 07:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooyahFordhamYacht/pseuds/BooyahFordhamYacht
Summary: Merlin BBC AU, in which Shane is the king lost in the swelling sea of time and Ryan is the warlock, passing lifetimes with the hope that the tide will bring his king back to shore.





	in my next life by the shore

_ His first impression of Camelot was that it was far too big. Ealdor was tiny, and Ryan had loved it that way. The horses and people bustling by are overwhelming. Shane has always made it feel a little bit more like home. _

 

_ Shane’s gone now.  _

 

_ Ryan watches in silence as the boat sails slowly out into the middle of the lake. He waits, waits, waits, because just maybe he’s wrong and Shane will sit up and call him an idiot for crying, but really Ryan knows that won’t happen. _

 

_ Morgana is dead, Sara will rule wonderfully as queen, and Camelot, for now, will be safe.  _

 

_ Ryan sets the boat on fires and leaves before he can watch it burn.  _

 

Ryan wakes with a start, the cold December air crushing him into the warmth of the blankets. His London apartment is beautiful but old, and insulation is terrible.  _ Old  _ is a funny word to Ryan - yes, this apartment complex was built eighty years ago now, but that pales in comparison to the thousands that Ryan has waited.

 

For Shane. For Shane, who Ryan will never give up on. He remembers making that promise to himself - somewhere in 14th century Europe, when he’d watched the plague kill every child in the town he’d been staying in for fifty years. That had been one of the times Ryan would give anything to not be immortal, to have a life with an ending, because stories that go on forever seem to be the ones with the most tragedy. 

 

And then he thought about Shane, and Shane’s eyes, and Shane’s laugh, and the way Shane looked when Ryan would wake him up in the morning, so peaceful, the complete opposite of the boy Ryan knew in his waking hours, the one whose crown was far too big and rested far too heavily upon him. He thought about Shane, and how Shane would come back to him, and Ryan  _ had to be there when Shane returned. _ He just had to be there. So Ryan watched, as the people around him died, as the good people he had cared for died. His powers were very much frowned upon now, as they had been in Camelot, and so he still hid them, using them only to heal in small, nearly undetectable ways. 

 

Ryan roamed from city to city, watching as the world around him grew and expanded and learned and developed, and he changed with the times, becoming a new someone he almost didn’t recognize with each passing century. The one thing that stays the same about Ryan, like it has been before, like it always will be, is Shane. Shane is a part of him just like Ryan’s magic is a part of him - sometimes, Ryan thinks Shane might even be more important than that. Shane is, as the dragon once said, Ryan’s destiny. The two of them are intertwined, bound together even as centuries stretch between them, even when the pain of losing Shane is so great that Ryan thinks he’s drowning in that same lakewater that entombs Shane. 

 

Centuries pass. Friends come and go from Ryan’s life, good people he meets along his travels. Some leave, some die, but in the end it doesn’t matter how Ryan ends up alone because he knows that he will always end up alone. There is no one else. 

 

Ryan remembers Shane, even as centuries come and go like seasons, remembers him.

 

Remembers all of it.

 

_ Shane, throwing mugs and plates at Ryan when he wakes the prince every morning, always missing on purpose but Ryan would never say that out loud because then he’d really get smacked.  _

 

_ Shane by campfire light in the light shading of late dusk, as Ryan finishes their dinner. Even when the hunts got long or the nights were cold, Shane was careful to always thank Ryan for making dinner, always, and there was always enough for Ryan to have some too even when he knew Shane was still starving.  _

 

_ Shane in the earliest of mornings when the bells would toll, signaling some issue, cranky but adorable in wrinkled clothes and ruffled hair.  _

 

_ Shane after a hard-fought battle, who always looked Ryan over before allowing the smaller man to tend his wounds. _

 

_ Shane as the first thing Ryan sees when he comes to, Shane painted blue with concern and fear as he helps Ryan to his feet and then pulls him against him even before Ryan can get his bearings.  _

 

_ Shane on the last day, promising Ryan that everything would be fine before they charged into battle against Morgana, and Ryan still feels stupid for believing him. Shane in Ryan’s arms, looking too pale, still trying to smile for Ryan’s sake, telling him he’s so grateful to have known him, and Shane when Ryan tells him that he’s a sorcerer. Shane dying with a betrayed look in his eye, and Ryan never forgiving himself for leaving things that way. _

He should have told Shane sooner. 

 

It had never been fear that had kept Ryan silent about his powers. Shane would never hurt him, Ryan knew that. Shane would die before he let anything happen to Ryan, and  _ that  _ was what kept Ryan silent for so long. Ryan never wanted to put Shane in any danger, never wanted to force him to lie to his father, to his people, to everyone. But Shane waas dying and Ryan would give anything to change that, but he couldn’t, and he knew that he couldn’t bear the idea of Shane going to his grave without knowing the truth. He couldn’t.

 

And then Shane died with a look in his eyes that says  _ you let me down, I trusted you _ , and Ryan can’t stop wondering if he did the right thing. So he ran. He ran from town to town, country to country, but he never left the continent for the fear of leaving Shane truly alone. 

 

He aged and deaged himself to match the times, aging “naturally” in a town until he decided it was time to move on, either when he had been there the length of a human life or when he’d jittery with the need to explore, to find something, even though the only thing that could ever stop him looking would be to find Shane. 

 

He moves from town to town until he’s in an old flat in London, staring at the ceiling, as he watches the boat catch flame over and over in his mind. 

 

And Ryan knows. 

 

Because he hasn’t had that dream since the month after Shane died, thousands of years ago, and because he can feel it in his bones, in his soul, like a puzzle piece clicking into place.

 

After thousands of years, Ryan wakes on a cold December morning in London with his magic toiling in his stomach, restless, and the knowledge that Shane has come back to him.

 

Shane has finally,  _ finally  _ come back to him.

 

 

* * *

 

2018 London is always busy, even now at hardly six thirty in the morning in the freezing cold, and Ryan catches the second cab to go by. He doesn’t even remember the address that brings him closest to the lake, but it spills out of him anyways like an afterthought - luckily, it’s not far. Ryan had been circling around the lake, moving closer and closer back to Shane, for nearly two hundred years now. Maybe he’d known this was coming, maybe he’d figured it had to happen sooner or later, or maybe he just couldn’t handle having Shane far away from him anymore. 

 

He’s numb with nerves by the time the sleepy cabbie pulls to a stop. It’s a five minute walk to the lake, give or take, and the minutes are spent in silence as he watches Shane die over and over again in his mind. Shane, in his arms, dying, and Ryan remembers it more clearly than anything else that’s happened in the centuries since. 

 

And then the memory fades, and it’s replaced by a soaking wet figure on the grass beside the lake. 

 

Shane is predictably naked(or not, Ryan’s never really picked up the reincarnated love of his life from a lake at six thirty in the morning, maybe he should be clothed, but Ryan was expecting him to be naked), but Ryan was aware enough to grab the pants that he accidentally bought a size too big and the sweatshirt that never quite fit, and the bag on his shoulder also has an energy bar(being dead for thousands of years seems like something that might leave a person hungry), and suddenly it feels far too heavy on his shoulders.

 

Before Ryan can feel his feet moving, he is beside Shane, but he can’t, he won’t touch him because he’s just going to wake up in his freezing London flat with nothing and no one and he thinks probably it’ll finally crush him underneath the weight of loneliness. 

 

Shane, he realizes, is not unconscious like he’d believed. He lets out a soft groan as Ryan’s hand comes down on his bare shoulder, and if Ryan hadn’t been so hyperfocused on  _ Shane here  _ and  _ now  _ he probably would have been sucked into a memory of waking Shane up in the morning, golden sunlight through the curtains and a soft groan from a sleep-addled Shane. But Shane needs him, right now, and Ryan can’t daydream.

 

Ryan’s kneeling on the ground beside Shane, the cold leaching through his pants against the flesh of his knees, and still Ryan feels like he’s floating, like he’s dreaming, because Shane is  _ real  _ and Shane is  _ here  _ after so many years of Ryan being alone, and God it’s cold out here but Ryan barely feels it. 

 

And then Shane lifts his head, and Ryan sees the very second that his face comes into focus in Shane’s mind, sees the recognition spark behind his eyes. And then Ryan is on his back in the snow, and he doesn’t know when that happened but Shane is on top of him and crushing him both underneath him and to his chest, but Ryan doesn’t care because finally, fucking finally, it’s Shane and he’s here and Ryan really might lose his mind in this very second, relief pushing him to toe the line between euphoria and insanity.

 

Shane and Ryan remember at exactly the same time that Shane is bare ass naked. Shane pulls back, and Ryan hands him the bag without saying a word, without pulling his eyes from Shane’s face.

 

Shane is dressed in an instant, and suddenly Ryan is crying, sobbing so hard he thinks his lungs might truly collapse, and Shane, for his part, doesn’t speak, just grabs him and holds him like he would’ve, thousands of years ago in a kingdom long forgotten by the cold soul of time. 

 

After a moment, Ryan pulls himself together purely on the notion that Shane probably has absolutely no idea what’s going on. 

 

Shane knows him better than anyone, and simply says, “What’d I miss?”

 

* * *

 

Ryan takes Shane all the way back to his apartment, although with Shane there the ride goes by much faster than it had when his heart had been jammed between his constricting ribs. 

 

Two cups of coffee and a fuzzy blanket(both of which Shane eyes with a certain apprehension, but he absolutely  _ loves  _ coffee by his first sip) later, they are seated on Ryan’s couch, on opposite ends, just watching each other.

 

“Where do I begin?” Ryan asks, hating how his voice shakes and cracks like a prepubescent teen. 

 

Shane smiles softly. “Where all good stories start, Bergara. At the beginning.”

 

* * *

 

Shane takes it surprisingly well. Ryan had expected this to be hard. Harder.

 

He tenses when he finds out just how many years have passed, and Ryan knows he must be thinking of Sara and Percival and Gwaine(Ryan forgoes telling him that Gwaine was dead even before Shane, because who will it hurt now?), and everyone else that he left behind, that died mourning him. Everyone he’d never get to speak to again. 

 

He asks a lot of questions about Ryan’s life in the years since his death, about everything that’s changed, and about what never will. Ryan answers them all as best as he can, but his hands are shaking like setting Shane’s coffin on fire, and his heart stuttering like telling Shane who he really is. 

 

Shane, for the matter, hasn’t brought up Ryan’s powers, not in any of his questions or in telling Ryan what he remembers of Camelot(it makes Ryan sad that Shane’s memories of Camelot are better than his own, but in some ways, it makes sense that time hasn’t eroded them like it has Ryan’s).

 

“And, yknow, my powers were never really accepted, so they stayed hidden long after Camelot.” Ryan blurts that in the middle of telling a story of a village in 1647 that reminded him of Ealdor. 

 

Shane goes white, and Ryan curses himself for mentioning them at all. 

 

Shane stares for a second, and as he’s opening his mouth to speak, Ryan stands and grabs the mugs on the table. “I’ll get more coffee.” he says, far too loud for the small living room, and bolts for the kitchen. 

 

His shaking hands cause him to drop one of the mugs as he is pouring coffee from the pot, and it shatters on the counter. “Fuck,” he sets the pot on the counter with a defeated sigh. Gripping the edge of the counter, he shuts his eyes and tries to calm his racing nerves. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

 

“Ryan,” and Ryan turns around and there Shane is, leaning against the doorway in Ryan’s clothes like he’s never been gone and Ryan doesn’t quite know what to think, just stares and tries not to blink because he really thinks Shane might just disappear. 

 

“Ryan.” Shane says again, and Ryan looks up to meet his eyes. “I know we didn’t necessarily get to talk this out the first time around, and I know that you probably didn’t know how I felt about your powers, you know,  _ afterwards _ , but I want you to know that even then, I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t. A little, surprised, sure, and a little hurt that you didn’t tell me sooner, but I never felt like you had done me some great injustice, or that you’d intentionally wronged me in any way. You did what you thought was best, and I understand that. Besides, it’s not like I was completely honest with you, either.”

 

This is news to Ryan. Shane, as long as Ryan has known him, was the white knight in shining armour, who did the right thing every time, who sacrificed himself for people, even people like Ryan, who were only lowly servants. 

 

“How do you mean?” and suddenly Shane is pushing off from the door and walking closer, and Ryan finds he doesn’t mind at all, even in his tiny kitchen. 

 

“I was a kid, and I was scared.” And Shane’s breathy voice is a distant memory to Ryan, from well-fought victories and the look of triumph. “And I didn’t think that someone could feel so strongly, because I never knew my mother and my father’s love, so I never understood what people meant by being so infatuated with someone that there is nothing you would not do for them. And then you, and my whole  _ world  _ shifted on its axis. You were… so young, and cheery, and yet you had this air about you, like you knew everything a person could ever know.” 

 

Ryan’s ears are buzzing, his whole body is buzzing, and he feels like maybe at any second he’s just going to collapse into a singularity or something of the like. 

 

Shane’s right near him now, and holy shit, this day has been too much. Shane coming back and then Shane right so close to him that Ryan can smell lakewater and something else that is so truly  _ Shane  _ that Ryan could start crying again. 

 

“And I never told you. I wanted to, but I didn’t want to pressure you into anything that you weren’t comfortable with, and I was worried about what my father would think, and I worried that we both lived lives with far too much risk for telling you to be fair. Then I was dying, and I wanted to tell you so bad, but it didn’t feel at all fair to leave you with that and nothing else. Now, I’m back, and I can’t not tell you any longer. I love you, Ryan. I’m  _ in love  _ with you.” Shane finishes his speech and looks at Ryan with hopeful eyes, and Ryan feels like he’s been punched in the gut, because this isn’t real, this can’t be real. 

 

Shane, however, takes his silence as Ryan being freaked out, as Ryan not feeling the same way, and backpedals as hard as he can. “I know it’s a lot right now, I only just came back and you need time, or maybe you don’t feel the same, and that’s fine too, I mean, I’d gladly just be friends with you, but if you need time I can wait, I mean you waited thousands of years for me, I can wait as long as I need to for you, I just-” and Ryan is laughing and saying “shut up, dollophead,” and throwing himself at Shane, who, luckily, catches him. 

 

The kiss tastes of coffee and salt from Ryan’s tears, and, he realizes after a moment, Shane’s too. 

 

The water took Shane from him thousands of years ago, and the rising tide had finally,  _ finally _ brought him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Look!
> 
> I wrote something with a happy ending! Even more surprising, I wrote something! I know I've been gone forever and have also been promising content for weeks, but here it is! This fic is my baby and it's also completely unbetad, so please ignore any mistakes.
> 
> Twitter: unsolvedmaggie  
> Tumblr: unsolvedmaggie
> 
> -Mags


End file.
